Fighting His Last Fight
by Daisy Bokoblin
Summary: "Me, die? I know, sounds crazy. Everyone who watches these things seems to think I am invincible. The great Marth Lowell, he's second to none. Well, last time I only survived because my opponent had a minor slip-up." Oneshot with mentions of Marth/Zelda


It stings. The pain is almost blinding, hot and sharp. Why am I here? Do I deserve this? Does anyone deserve this? Sticky drops of liquid trail down my back, and I know that the bleeding has begun again. They could've at least let my other scars heal properly. Though, that isn't exactly their modus operandi.

No, the fact that the whip was brought out means I have a match. Wonder who it is this time? Last time I actually almost died. Me, die? I know, sounds crazy. Everyone who watches these things seems to think I am invincible. The great Marth Lowell, he's second to none. Well, last time I only survived because my opponent had a minor slip-up.

Oh, I remember it well, the pool of red liquid he slipped in. I have been in these matches more times than I can count, I have long since learned to avoid the puddles. But he was a newcomer, and these things were unknown to him. Well, actually, everyone I fight is a newcomer. The Master likes to see new faces fighting old ones. I once heard from the people who whip me (I listened in; they speak so loudly they can be heard over the cracking sounds) that there's another person like me. Another person forced to fight, held prisoner underneath the earth, whipped into submission.

At first, I wanted to meet them. I thought, since we were both decent fighters, we could escape and fight our way out together. Escape this world we live in. But I never seemed to see them, and I never heard another mention of them.

Oh well.

I seem to have drifted off topic, haven't I? Well, my last match was against a newcomer (as I have already clarified)... Surprisingly, that's all I really remember about him. Not his name, not his height. But I do remember his eyes. It's hard to forget the petrified look in them as I plunged my sword into his chest by order of the Master. His piercing blue eyes that were swiftly dulled by the sword I held. He was a swordfighter too, I remember the golden shimmer his sword seemed to give off.

Sometimes I go up against people with other weapons. The lady who used vegetables as weapons was a particularly memorable fight, she was so strange. Then the little fox creature who used a device that shot little beams of light, now that was a difficult fight…

I drifted again, didn't I? Well, it's seems to be easier to do as time goes on. I can just get lost in my thoughts, barely paying attention to my surroundings. It helps to be able to shut out the world when the world wants to whip you and cage you like an animal.

It hurts. This whip, these chains keeping my hands against the wall. I cry. It is a sign of weakness, crying, and so when I first came here I tried to keep my tears in. But I soon learned that keeping in your tears for so long doesn't work. I cried harder the night I realized that then I ever cried before.

...The whipping has stopped. My back is raw, and the only reason I'm still even partially standing is the wall I lean on. Is the match going on now? The boy who carries my sword in the dim room confirms my thoughts. It is time for my next match.

Marth Lowell, the invincible fighter, will be fighting his last fight tonight.

But no one but myself knows this fact.

I pity the unfortunate soul who will be taking my place.

I emerge into the sunlight, shining brightly on my face, and I allow myself to take a small pleasure in the warmth. This will be the last time I have to do this, to fight someone. Crowds cheer wildly all around me. I used to be disgusted by them, but now my mindless rage and disgust has numbed. Years in the darkness will do that to a person, strip them of most any feeling but pain.

And then the Master speaks to the crowds. I barely listen, only paying attention to what he says about my opponent.

Master says the man I go against isn't a newcomer. He's experienced, he has lived in the darkness right along with me. He is the man I wanted to find and escape with.

The Master announces his name. Link.

My only thought is that he has no last name, which is strange, but when he emerges into the arena along with me, my thoughts turn to how easy it will be to lose. He is strong, he has a sword, and if I lose to him, he doesn't have to take my place. He already is in the same position I am.

And yet, I also can't help but think about how easy it would be to win. He looks pale. Skinny. Though, I probably look the same way. When was the last time I ate? I don't remember, and all I can now think about is how pitiful we both look. But then the bell rings, and I must jump into action.

Swords clash, sparks fly, cheers echo. Adrenaline is the only reason I am moving. The only reason I can even wield this sword. I must make it seem like I put up a fight, and then I can end this. He will end it for me. Link will be my saviour.

Suddenly, our swords clash and stay together. Our swords in a lock, he leans in to my ear.

"Kill me."

And now my plan has a huge dent in the side of it.

He wants me to kill him.

I want him to kill me.

I- I can't kill him. He has to free me! I have been planning this since my last kill, whose name I can suddenly remember. In fact, in this moment, all of my kills come back to me.

Ike, the last one.

Peach, vegetable lady.

Fox.

Roy.

Falco.

Snake.

Samus.

Bowser.

Zelda.

It's too much. I can't live with these deaths on my conscience.

I have to die.

The names dance around in my head, their faces play in front of my eyes, and my sword drops to the ground as I clutch my head wildly. I claw at my scalp so roughly blood drips down my fingers, and the confused ramblings of the crowd echo in my mind. But I pay them no mind. I just need to get those people out of my head.

But only one of them sticks out to me.

Her.

And I killed her.

When we fought each other, I couldn't remember the time we had spent together before I was dragged here. That was why I had killed her. If I had remembered- But no. It is too late for such thoughts. She is dead, and I am unable to ever see her again. Unable to ever feel her silky brown hair slide through my fingers.

I deserve to die.

With only this thought on my mind, I sink to my knees, not caring what happens next. I should die. The Master should have Link kill me right now.

Wait, what is Link doing? I look up to see that, the whole time the people I have killed danced in my head, he has stood there, sword by his side. Waiting. He knows the process. Looking up to the Master in his seat, he waits for the inevitable signal, the signal of death. And then the Master does something I didn't expect, something no one expected. He gives the signal for Link to leave me alive.

I can't. I have to die. These memories I have, they were to die with me. This was to be my last fight, I was to take no more lives, I wouldn't be whipped any longer. I was to be free.

Instead, I am dragged back into the darkness, back to my whip which is sure to be covered in more tiny shards of glass as a punishment.

I think about struggling against the people holding me, but decide against it. There's no point. I am sure to be dragged back, whipped for my insolence, then later thrown back into the arena, where I can beg the person I fight to kill me. Or maybe I'll kill myself. After all, they are just handing me the sword to use, no strings attached.

Smiling for the first time in a long time, I know I'll be free soon.

I just need to wait for the next match.

The next time a sword is put in my hands.


End file.
